


Single Candle

by Yalu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Episode: s10e21 Dark Dynasty, Gen, fixit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 23:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4724573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yalu/pseuds/Yalu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> </p><p>Dean knows he can't save Charlie in time, but hell if he's going to let that stop him. </p><p> </p><p>a.k.a. We all know ep 10x21 never happened, doesn't exist, etc – but if it had, this is how it should have gone.</p><p>#NeverOverThis #CharlieLives</p>
            </blockquote>





	Single Candle

**Author's Note:**

> Guess what I found on my hard drive.
> 
> "Look at how a single candle can both defy and define the darkness."  
> ― Anne Frank (attributed to)
> 
>  
> 
>  

"Charlie, I don't know what the hell is going on, but you need to listen to me. Give whoever that is whatever they want. You understand?" 

Her breath was faint and ragged through the earpiece. He could hear typing, and over it the sound of Sam's shoes behind him as they hurried to the stairs. What the hell did she–?

There was a faint _bang_ in the background and Charlie yelped very softly. Dean's fingers pressed into the edge of the phone so hard it hurt. The thunk of their boots on the iron staircase was louder than she was.

"Charlie?"

_"I can't do that, Dean."_

"God _damnit_ , Charlie!" Dean broke into a sprint for the door, hating the tiny pull on his lungs as he climbed to the door. "We'll be ten minutes – at least!"

_"I can hold him off. Just hurry."_

"Damnit, Charlie–"

The phone went dead. 

"FUCK." Dean tripped on his feet rounding the last corner, stumbled, caught himself on the doorframe and sprinted up the concrete steps to his baby. Skidding in the mud, he ripped the door open, fell in and threw Sam's phone at the passenger seat as his brother scrambled in the other side. "You call Cas right _fucking now_ and get him to meet us–" The engine roared to life under his hands– "No, scratch that: GPS, where's the Blackbird? Here, do both." He threw his phone at Sam. "NOW."

Sam fumbled to catch it and Dean didn't care that he took the corner onto the 281 hard enough to throw his brother into the door. He deserved it. 

_Charlie, God, no, not Charlie. Not Charlie._

"Come on, Cas, pick up," Sam muttered, jamming his shoulder to his ear to keep the one phone in place while he typed into the other as fast as possible. "Blackbird Motel: South Railway Avenue, near Maple–"

Dean floored it, pedal to the metal– but they were five solid minutes out of town even when tearing up the speed limit, why did the freakin' Men of Letters have to build their bunker so far out? And South Railway Ave, that was the far side of town. Lebanon was tiny but it was an extra minute, two with the freakin' railway tracks...

They weren't going to make it. 

He knew it like he knew his name and his guts turned to ice. They weren't going to make it. Whoever was after Charlie, and he'd bet his baby it was Eldon Styne, they had her already, and these guys didn't fuck around. 

They weren't going to make it. 

...Screw that. 

Dean yanked his phone out of Sam's hands and flicked through his contacts list. Sam had finally got Cas on the line but who knew where the hell he was, and he couldn't fly anymore. None of _them_ could. 

Crowley answered on the second ring. _"Oh, Dean, how sweet, you missed m–"_

"My friend's going to die and I need you to save her. Blackbird Motel, Lebanon, Kansas. Her name's Charlie, red hair–"

_"Hold on, slow down–"_

"There's no TIME. We can't get there fast enough and she's gonna die. You're the only one who can zap around anymore."

Beside him, Sam started. "You're asking _Crowley_ for help? Are you nuts?" Dean ignored him. 

There was a heavy sigh through the earpiece. _"What's after her? One of mine?"_

"Just a human, but he's souped-up and she's not a fighter." Dean clutched the phone as he drove one-handed, trusting his baby not to hydroplane because there wasn't a hope in hell he could concentrate enough right now. He felt his heart hammering his his throat. "Please, I'm begging you. We'll owe you. Anything."

" _Dean_ –" hissed Sam.

_"Is that brother darling I hear? Tut, tut, Dean, you know he doesn't like me."_

"Yeah well, fuck him, it's his fault anyway. _Please_ , Crowley!"

Another sigh. _"All right."_

Something changed on the other end; Dean couldn't make out the sound over the rain hammering on his roof, but then there was a heavy _thud_ and a male groan and one of Crowley's 'I'm so overworked' little sighs, and he said, _"You never ask easy favours, do you?"_

"Is she okay? What's happening?" They'd reached town now, barrelling towards the railway tracks. Another minute.

_"I'm holding off her reaper."_

_FUCK_. "Where's Cas?" he snapped at Sam.

"Coming."

Dean took the left onto South Railway so hard their back wheels flew out and they almost spun. The red neon sign of the motel was ahead, blurred by the rain. He almost hit a red sedan in the parking lot. Didn't care.

One door was broken open, a bloody smear by the number. Dean barely registered shoving the phone in his pocket, cocking his gun, or hearing Sam do the same: They ran in. 

Eldon Styne was face-down by a dent in the wall, out for now. Dean lifted his arm to shoot the bastard's brains out, saw Crowley's coat in the bathroom doorway and forgot. There was blood on the floor, and Crowley–

Crowley was standing in front of the bathtub, blocking his view of anything but blood spatters and Charlie's boot, and was grimacing as he held his hands up to push away something invisible. Dean couldn't see or feel a thing; he could be standing right in it. "You owe me so much for this, boys."

"Just a few minutes, Cas is coming," said Sam. "He can heal her."

Dean grit his teeth and walked through the reaper and knelt by the tub, awkwardly reaching past Crowley's legs. Charlie was limp, bloody, and still warm. There was an oozing hole in her gut; either her heart wasn't beating, or there was nothing left to pump out. Blood was dribbling from her head where it lay against the wall. Was she thrown against it? Did her skull crack?

Dean's stomach turned over and he shoved his nose and mouth into his sleeve to force the bile down. _No_. They would _fix_ this. They had to fix this.

Sam was somewhere behind him being completely fucking useless while Crowley held off the reaper. He wasn't having a blast but he could do it, Dean had seen him do it, back then when he was a demon and Crowley was getting some new crossroads victim to set up his flickr account before tossing the guy in the Pit. He could do it. He had to. 

"Eldon!" someone cried in the next room, someone with a southern accent, and Sam whirled from the doorway and took aim at whoever it was – Dean didn't care. It wasn't Cas. 

He barely heard Sam firing. He cradled Charlie as best he could over the edge of the bath, pulling her off the hard wall and pillowing her head on his arm. It was warm and wet. She was white as bone. As death. He gagged. The smell of blood hadn't made him gag in years. 

"...the both of you, bloody _useless_..." Crowley was muttering. 

"I can't see the damn thing!"

"He's got a lot to say about you, Squirrel, I can tell you that. Sure you don't want a job?" he asked the reaper.

He probably didn't get a polite reply.

Finally, _finally_ there was the screech of another car outside and the hammer of footsteps that was recognisably Cas. "In here, now!" Dean roared.

Cas appeared, took in the scene, stepped around the reaper and dove for Charlie. The second his fingers touched her head, it was over. 

Crowley straightened, the crackling static energy in the room vanished, and Charlie opened her eyes. 

"Wha...?" She blinked, bleary. "Oh god, what the–? Oh." She looked up, looked up at Dean, looked around, and her eyes locked on the blood on the wall. Then down at her shirt. Her hands started shaking. "Dean..."

He hauled her into the tightest hug ever and she burst into tears. "I've got you, kiddo."

She sucked in air, tried to talk, and it came out as a choked wail. "D-Dean..." Her fingers clutched his coat. "It hurt so much..."

Dean buried his nose in her hair and tried not to cry too. He lifted her right out of the tub (she was so _light_ , so _tiny_ ) and helped her sit up on the edge, cradling her head as she sobbed. 

Over her head, he met Cas's gaze and nodded thanks. 

Cas dropped his eyes, looking guilty. Ought to: He'd been in on this too, he'd lied, it was his fault as much as... but that, that was for later. Dean's heart only had room for Charlie right now. 

"Oh right, because I did nothing–" complained Crowley. 

" _Thank_ you," said Dean, sincerely, bottom of his heart, and he'd have to remember this one because Crowley actually shut up for a second. He looked... touched. 

"Well," he said after a second, "let's not forget you owe me now. Both of you, Moose," he added over his shoulder. "I'll be in touch."

He vanished. Cas aborted a roll of his eyes and stepped back to the doorway. "I'll take care of the bodies," he said, and somehow he managed to cram ten minutes worth of apology into his tone. He had his big sorry eyes on, too. Dean ignored it.

"Forget that, the cops'll be on their way by now. Just get her things and wipe the place down. Sam!" he barked, and his brother leaned around the doorway, keeping an eye and ear on the other room. "Wipe her prints, start the car. We're out of here in two."

Sam nodded and ducked out. Cas followed.

With them both gone, Dean finally let his face crumple and squeezed back every tear and scream and all the _hate_ that was roaring inside him, itching for vengeance on those mother _fuckers_ they all deserved to die, all of them, he would _kill_ them he would _rip_ them up and _where's the Blade? the Blade the Blade the BLADE_ –

No. Not now. Charlie was shaking under him, gasping for breath, falling apart at the seams and he had to keep a lid on it for her. Had to. Had to.

He grit his teeth and tugged on her shoulder. "Kiddo, we've got to go," he said into her hair. She shuddered and hung on tighter. "I'm taking you home, okay? You'll be safe."

"Don't leave me."

 _the blade the blade the blade the blade the blade_ –

He clenched his jaw and shoved it down. "I'm not leaving you."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I wanted to help–"

 _Cure him._ "I know." _Fix him._

_the blade the blade the blade the blade the blade..._

Not now.

Her small, cold fingers were fisted so tightly in his shirt, he'd break them if he tried to pull her off. Shifting his weight, he braced a foot on the floor and lifted, one arm under her knees, and carried her out, past the bodies, into the rain. 

These bastards were dead. He'd get the others soon enough. There were more important things to take care of.

 

 


End file.
